


Master Class

by eurydice72



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Roleplay, Season 3, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley dreams of power. And Willow. And...other stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It started with the most innocuous of comments.

“Everything’s just been going too good, you know?” he heard Willow say to Buffy as they started gathering their books to return to class. “It’s like…I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and smack me across the butt, because real life is just so dependable with the cosmic irony that way.”

Wesley glanced up through his lashes, daring to look away from his translation for the briefest of moments. Both girls stood at the tables, glowing with that verve of youth Americans seemed to have a monopoly on. Willow’s cheeks were stained pink.

“You say it that way, and I start to think you _want_ it to happen,” Buffy said with a smile. She wagged a warning finger at her friend. “Don’t make me pull out the list of Hellmouth no-no’s.”

Willow’s eyes went wide with faux innocence. “You mean, I shouldn’t say things like this?” She affected a breathy pant to her voice as she acted out the next. “Oh, please, _spank_ me, you big bad life, you. I want to be punished. I _need_ to be punished. I’ve been a bad, bad---.” It was cut off with a giggle when Buffy poked her in the side.

Wesley forced his attention back to his scroll, but the words turned to scribbles before his eyes. It was impossible to block out the sounds of the girls laughing and chatting as they walked out of the library, oblivious to his presence. He waited until after they were gone to discreetly adjust his cock from where it had grown hard against his thigh.

* * *

He was about to retire for the night when there came a knock at the front door of his flat. Wesley frowned, stopping in mid-step to stare at it in confusion. Nobody ever called on him at home except for salesmen, and it was too late an hour for this to be one of those. Picking up a cross from a nearby shelf, he approached the door warily, ready to brandish the weapon in the face of whatever might be on its other side.

Willow’s bright face smiled up at him, a book held close to her chest. “Hi,” she said. A long moment passed where he continued to gaze at her in disbelief. She began to fidget before looking pointedly at the cross he still had in his hand and then over his shoulder at his empty flat. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“What?” Flushing with embarrassment, Wesley tucked the cross awkwardly into his trousers pocket. It was unnerving to see one of the Slayer’s friends on his doorstep. They’d made their disdain for him perfectly clear in the short time he had been in Sunnydale. “Oh. No. I’m just…was just…” Clearing his throat, he stepped aside to allow room for her to enter. “Come in.”

She brushed past him, and he caught the faint scent of her shampoo. Coconut. He’d never noticed that detail before. “Giles said you needed this book, but then Principal Snyder showed up and started babbling about the library budget so Giles had to ask if one of us could bring it over instead.” Turning to look at him, the smile on her face was almost apologetic. “Cordelia wasn’t around to jump embarrassingly at the opportunity, so that left me and Oz.”

When Wesley glanced around, making a point of noting that it was only the pair of them in the lounge, Willow laughed and set down the book.

“He’s out in the van,” she explained. “Which is where I should get back to before he starts wondering what’s taking so long. We’re supposed to go see a movie tonight and if we miss the opening credits, he gets cranky.”

His brows shot up. “Somehow, I have difficulty imagining that.”

“Oh, yeah.” Willow began edging back to the door. “He goes from being monosyllabic to being non-syllabic. It’s really not pretty.” At the exit, she waggled her fingers as she returned to the dark shadows outside. “See you tomorrow.”

It seemed too soon to lose the new company, and Wesley followed after her onto his front step. “Thank you,” he said, though it was hardly adequate. When she gave no indication of returning, he resigned himself to the brief respite, grateful at least that it appeared the group was starting to accept him. “Extend my apologies to Oz for keeping you.”

“Oh, no big there. I’ll take my punishment with a smile.” She waved again. “Bye!”

He watched the night swallow her up, listening to the distant sounds of a car door opening and shutting. It wasn’t until after he heard the van drive away that Wesley realized he was hard as a rock.

* * *

He woke the next morning staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Shame turned his body into a living flame.

He’d dreamt of her. Willow. Bent over his knee, her bare bottom red and hot and twitching under his hand as he answered her pleas and gave her the spanking she so wanted. Every once in a while, his fingers slipped and probed at her pussy, then dragged her fluids back to her ass to slick the same entry there. 

She came with his name on her lips and her juices dripping onto his thighs. When she sat up, she smiled and thanked Wesley for giving her exactly what she deserved.

What made the entire dream worse was that he had enjoyed it.

He had the come stain on his boxers to prove it.

* * *

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Giles demanded. Wesley was startled from where he’d been working on the same translation as the day previous, dropping his pencil to watch helplessly while it rolled to the floor. “You haven’t heard a single word I’ve said. Are you even listening to me?”

Simultaneously, Buffy and Willow lifted their heads from their books, eyes fixed on the two Watchers. Synchronized staring. Wonderful. Wesley had to turn in his seat in order not to see the soft expanse of skin at the open neck of Willow’s blouse.

“I believe I’m attempting to finish this translation that you so conveniently managed to fob off on me,” he said with as much coldness as he could muster. “After all, _one_ of us should be doing his job around here.”

Giles’ mouth thinned. “If memory serves, my _job_ is that of librarian. As you so frequently remind me, _you_ are the only one actually employed by the Council now.”

Behind him, Wesley heard Buffy snicker. “I love these Watcher smackdowns,” she said. “We really need to start stocking popcorn in here for them.”

Stiffly, Wesley sat up as straight as he could manage. The truth was, he hadn’t even been paying due attention to the scroll. Memories of his dream of Willow had come flooding back the moment she had bounced into the library, and he had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to will away the erection that seemed to be omnipresent whenever she was near. It was the reason he now couldn’t rise to his feet and face Giles eye-to-eye.

“Then I suggest you forego trying to distract me from my work and get on with yours,” he said. 

Giles stared at him for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “You’re such a prat,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “Come, Buffy. We’ll look over those documents from the Mayor’s office at my desk.”

Panic rose in Wesley’s throat as Buffy did as she was told, leaving him alone with Willow. When he glanced over at her, it was in time to see her shifting sideways in order to reach for his pencil that had rolled beneath the table. Her new position drew his eyes automatically to the flow of her skirt over her bottom, and he was startled away from the mental images flooding through his mind when she straightened with his pencil in her hand.

“Those crazy kids,” she said, handing over the pencil with a small smile. “But whatcha gonna do?”

His arousal left only one possible answer.

_Shag you senseless._

* * *

The dreams grew worse.

Well. 

_Worse_ was probably not the most accurate word since Wesley woke up from each with his body humming and his underwear soaked in semen. 

_Frequent_ was better. 

_Intense._

_Vivid._

And always about Willow.

He began doing everything in his power to avoid running into her at the high school. Unfortunately, that also meant avoiding Buffy, which countermanded the entire purpose for his presence. Wesley could find no other solution, however. Just seeing a woman with red hair any more was enough to get him hard. Images of that hair splayed over a porcelain back while a bare ass glowed from the heat of his hand always sprang immediately to mind. He took to staying in his flat in order to get anything accomplished.

Cordelia showed up at his door a week after his first dream.

“Hi,” she said with her Miss America smile firmly in place. He wondered why he had never noticed before just how phony it seemed. “A little birdy tells me you’re playing hard to get.”

He visibly started. “Pardon?”

Her smile faded slightly. “Giles? Said you were hiding away.” She rolled her eyes. “Those buffoons think they’ve intimidated you into backing off of Buffy. Like _that_ could happen. Buffy really needs to get over herself. That whole Chosen thing? So last year.”

Though it was reassuring to have someone on his side, he found her condescending attitude a trifle annoying. There was no question as to why. He could never conceive Cordelia submitting to such a passive role in his fantasy, even if he could get her to wear a red wig.

“Yes, well, Giles is mistaken,” Wesley said, pulling himself straighter. “I appreciate your concern, Cordelia, but I’ve merely been busy. I found the library too…distracting to best concentrate on this translation.”

She tried to commiserate, whining about the social ineptitude of her ex-friends, but he brushed her off with polite aloofness until she finally gave up and walked away. It was an odd relief. Though he knew it would only be a matter of time before his excuses would stop satisfying the Council, Wesley hoped that this newfound obsession with Willow would abate before that particular hourglass ran out.

* * *

Wesley had never been lucky.

When the knock came at his door the next night, he rose from his desk with a sigh, prepared to fend Cordelia off yet again. His knuckles went white on the doorknob when he was greeted with Willow’s perky smile instead.

“Hi,” she said, waggling her fingers at him. “Long time, no see.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly unable to breathe properly. “Yes, well, I’ve been…busy.”

She leaned to the side, looking at the empty flat behind him just as she had the first time she’d visited. When her gaze returned to his face, her brows were lifted in silent questioning.

“A translation,” Wesley elaborated.

“The same one you were working on last week?”

He flushed with embarrassment. “…Yes.”

Willow took advantage of his distraction and slipped inside the flat, heading straight to the scroll on his desk. “Need some help? Sometimes all it takes is a fresh set of eyes, and I can be as fresh as the next girl.”

Her words made his mouth unexpectedly water. Slowly, Wesley closed the door, watching as she slipped her coat off and draped it over the nearby couch. “No offense,” he said, careful with each word, “but what exactly are you doing here?” He paused. “Did Giles send you?”

“No. Well. Kind of.” She sat down in his chair, keeping her attention on the scroll as she spoke. “He was a little surprised you wouldn’t even let Cordy inside, because you didn’t seem to have any issue with me dropping off that book last week.”

“So he sent you instead.”

“No, I volunteered when Buffy started making noises that she might stop by and drag you back to the library by force.” Her nose wrinkled. “I know you two don’t get along, but still, that’s just a little too…too, even for you two.” She paused. “Too.”

He almost wished she would look at him. All he could see was her hair falling over her shoulders, and the coincidence with his fantasies was too close for comfort.

“I don’t understand why Giles is in such a dither about my return to the library,” he said instead. “He’s made it perfectly clear that he finds my presence bothersome.”

Picking up his pencil, Willow scratched out something he had written down on his notepad and wrote something else in its place. “The stuff with the Mayor is starting to get a little heavy,” she explained. “Giles wants all the able bodies he can find for what he thinks is coming up, and your body is as able as the rest of ours. Abler maybe, because you’ve had actual training.” She swiveled and gazed at him directly for the first time since entering. “Did you really not see this was subjunctive?”

It took a moment to realize she was referring to his translation. With a frown, Wesley crossed to the desk, looking over what she’d written. “You’re right,” he said. “That changes things completely.”

“I can stay and help you with this,” Willow offered. “If this is what’s keeping you away from the high school.”

Perhaps it was the innocent expectation in her eyes that made him pause. All Wesley was aware of was agreeing with her before he could think to do otherwise.

* * *

Around three in the morning, she rose from where she’d been sitting on the couch and stretched. The arch of her back thrust out her small breasts, and Wesley hurriedly looked away before she caught him staring, doing his best to ignore the erection that had plagued him since her arrival.

“I think I need to take a little break,” she said, heading straight for the kitchen. He’d already offered her free rein of his flat and listened to her now opening up the refrigerator to go rooting around for something to drink. “How’s your part coming?”

He winced at her unfortunate choice of words. This was absolutely the worst idea he’d ever had; it was time for him to send her away. “I believe I’m done,” Wesley lied. “You can probably go home now.”

She came back in with a can of Coke in her hand. It was her fourth of the night; he was surprised the caffeine wasn’t affecting her that strongly yet. “I still have the last third to do of mine.”

“I’ll finish it. Thank you for your help. It’s been quite…helpful.”

She didn’t move. Her eyes kept flitting between him and the doorway until, finally, he felt he had to say something.

Unfortunately, Willow chose that moment as well.

“Look, I’m---.”

“Did we---?”

Both stopped short. They waited a moment, and then Wesley said with a small nod of his head, “You first.”

Though she seemed unsure, she blurted, “Did we do something to drive you away? Because Cordy said something about you being distracted, but you and I are working fine here. Great, even. I mean, I know Giles and Buffy have been giving you a hard time, but it’s not always them in the library---well, Giles is always there since it’s his job, and I suppose that means Buffy’s there a lot, too, because of the whole slaying thing, so maybe that’s not the best reason, but it’s got to be something because the translation is hard but not _that_ hard---.”

“Willow. Stop.” Her mouth snapped shut in mid-babble. He sighed. There appeared to be no escape to this, though every instinct in him was screaming to get her out of there. “Cordelia was right. I find it very difficult to concentrate when I’m at the high school. This way is better. Trust me.”

She took a step closer. “Is it something we can fix? Maybe if we knew what the problem was---.”

“Damn it, Willow, you can’t solve everything!” Her persistence had frayed his last nerve, and Wesley shot to his feet, suddenly tired of the whole situation. “Accept the fact that I can’t work there, and move on. Because, while I’d love nothing more than to get you out of my head, I can’t do it with you sitting just a few feet away from me.”

Realization about what he said dawned on them at the same time. Wes took a step away from her, the back of his legs hitting the desk, and watched her eyes grow wide, her mouth form a tiny o that immediately brought to mind images of it wrapped around his thrusting cock.

_I am thoroughly evil and going straight to hell._

“You…me…I…” Her voice failed her. Nothing was more startling than seeing Willow Rosenberg at a loss for words.

Anger made him draw up straight. “Is it such a ridiculous notion?” he demanded. “You’re a lovely young girl, and I’m a healthy, albeit slightly older, man. It’s a perfectly natural reaction to entertain fantasies about such a thing.”

He didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to grow even bigger, but they did. “Fantasies?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

“Yes, fantasies,” he repeated. “You’ve had sexual education in school. I’m certain they taught you that sexual fantasies---.”

“Sexual?”

Oh. Dear. Perhaps she hadn’t understood the full extent of his meaning, after all.

He tried to backpedal. “They’re nothing, really,” he said, skirting the edge of the couch so that it stood between them. “And I’m sure they’ll disappear in due time. In fact, I doubt they would’ve arisen at all if you hadn’t made that comment about spanking the other---.”

“ _Spanking_?!?”

He was certain he’d just crossed the line into potential felony charges. If he wished to get out of this with more than his dignity intact, she had to leave now.

“Go. Please.” His voice took on the wheedling tone he’d hated so much when he was at school, the one where he’d begged the headmaster not to report infractions to his father. It hadn’t worked then, either.

“Let me get this straight.” Her eyes had grown contemplative as she set down her soda and approached the couch. “You’ve been avoiding Buffy and all the rest of us, because seeing me makes you want to...what? Bend me over your knee, lift up a tiny Catholic schoolgirl skirt I just happen to be wearing even though I don’t actually go to Catholic school because hello, Jewish here, and paddle my ass for being a very bad girl?”

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, though it did nothing to block out the images she’d just evoked. “Yes, except…I’ve usually removed the skirt from you by that point,” he said in a small voice.

He held his breath while he waited for the slam of the front door to come. It never did.

When he finally dared to peek again, he saw Willow standing rooted in her spot, completely unmoving. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her breathing had quickened enough to make the rise and fall of her chest much more noticeable. With flushed cheeks, she stared at him, looking for all intents and purposes like she was waiting for him to speak.

“You’re still here,” he said. “Why are you still here?”

Her tongue darted out, licking lips he doubted very much were dry. “I didn’t think…ever since, Oz and I got back together, he’s been…polite. He kisses me, but some of the…touching he used to do isn’t there any more.”

He sincerely did not need to hear about her relationship with her boyfriend and told her so in no uncertain words.

“No, it’s not that,” Willow went on. “It’s just…I’ve wondered, you know? If it was me. I mean, I know he’s still upset about what happened with Xander, and I’m lucky he’s even giving me another chance, but…it’s different now. And I couldn’t help but start to think that maybe I was the one who was different now. That I wasn’t really…desirable like this.”

The uncertainty in her voice made his heart constrict. “Heavens no,” Wesley said, taking a step forward. “You’re very desirable, Willow. The sheer fact that I can’t get through a single night without dreaming of you is proof of that.”

For a moment, her gaze flickered to his hips, and he knew she could see the clear outline of his erection against his trousers. It was too late to try and hide it, however, so Wesley simply waited to see what she would say next.

“I should probably go,” she said haltingly. Her step was just as hesitant, a start and stop as her attention kept drifting back to him. “I hope this helped you. Talking about it. It was…”

But she didn’t finish the sentence. Again, words abandoned her as she stood in the open doorway.

“Thank you for your help with the translation,” he said. He meant it; if nothing else, work had been accomplished tonight, even if it wasn’t by his own hand.

Willow smiled, seemingly grateful for the change of subject. “Any time,” she said automatically, and then stiffened when she realized the implications of her offer. “Bye,” she added with a rush.

She was gone before he could reply.

* * *

In his dreams that night, Willow never took off the little skirt. 


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow, the translation was done by mid-afternoon, the changes Willow had made spurring Wesley into a fresh bout of productivity in spite of her lurking in the back of his mind. Tidying away the scroll, he decided it was safe to risk taking it over to the high school that evening. As it was Friday, odds were in his favor that the young people would be out and Giles alone. He believed he could work under those circumstances.

A long hot shower later, Wesley emerged from his bathroom feeling like a fresh man. He could do this. He was a professional. Willow’s words had proven correct, after all. All he needed was to bring the fantasies out into the open and the harsh light of day filtered them away. Perhaps by Monday, he would be able to return to his prior routine with no more thought of distraction.

He was still getting dressed when the knock came at his door. Without thinking, he crossed to answer it, his fingers working on the buttons of his shirt.

Unsurprisingly, Willow stood on the other side. Her hair was piled on top of her head, while make-up stronger than what she normally wore heightened her innocent features. A shapeless coat covered her from neck to knee, however, and Wesley frowned as he glanced up at the cloudless sky.

She fidgeted with the belt of her coat for a moment before speaking. “You didn’t come to school today,” she said. “After last night, I figured…I thought things were better.”

He wanted to tell her that they were. He’d even convinced himself of that, prior to opening the door. But seeing her in the flesh provoked a surge throughout his body, a lust that made his throat tight and his palms itch. To say what she wanted to hear would be lying, and frankly, Wesley was a terrible liar.

“I was finishing the translation,” he said. It was truth, if only partial. “Which I’ve now done, thanks to your contribution. My plans were to take it to Giles this evening.”

“Oh.” The tightness of the belt around her fingers was making the tips turn white. “Then I’m more than a little embarrassed I stopped by. I should probably go.”

“Wait.” She stopped in mid-turn, glancing up at him through lashes made lush with heavy mascara. “Why did you come?” Wesley asked.

Willow shook her head. “It was a dumb idea. Forget it.”

This time, he grabbed her arm to keep her from walking away. Curiosity was dispelling his discomfort. “Tell me.”

Though her gaze darted to where his fingers were curled around her forearm, Willow didn’t attempt to pull away. “I thought…well, I got online today and did some research. About fantasies. And boy, when you’re doing a search on those, you better be specific, because some of the stuff that comes up? Kind of freaky.”

His mouth was dry, but he managed to say, “Your point?”

“Fantasies are powerful because they’re just that. Fantasy. Not real. Having a fantasy made real can lessen its attraction.” 

All of a sudden, her fingers fumbled with the belt, the sides of the coat falling open to expose what she wore beneath. Wesley’s breath choked in his throat.

It wasn’t a Catholic school uniform. Far from it. The long-sleeved top looked like it was painted on, baring her midriff and boosting her cleavage, while the tiny leather skirt made her legs look impossibly long in their black hose. It was an ensemble Faith could’ve pulled off with aplomb. On Willow, there was an added sexiness that her unease only increased.

Wesley swallowed, drinking in the sight of her. His cock was throbbing.

“Maybe we should…go inside?” Willow asked.

The question of Oz popped into his mind, but he quickly shoved it aside. She was a smart girl. She would have already considered the consequences of her actions.

Besides, if he brought it up, she might actually walk away. Wesley stepped back to allow her room to enter. He wasn’t willing to have that happen just yet.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked once the door was shut. Inwardly, he cringed at the eagerness of his voice.

Willow slipped it from her shoulders and handed it to him, her hands then fluttering in front of her bare stomach as if to hide it from his view. “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

For some reason, that surprised him. “Why? I would never hurt you, Willow.”

Her lips twitched, a smile daring to break out. “You want to _spank_ me, Wesley. Last I checked, kind of means I get hurt in the process.”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” How could he make her understand without sounding like a complete idiot? “It’s about power. Being the one in charge.” _Not being the one punished._ But he left that part off. “If you were afraid, why did you come? Why would you…offer?”

She began wandering around the room, looking at everything but him. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted in a small, breathy voice. “To think that someone would want me in that way…when Oz doesn’t…I hardly slept when I got home. Do you know how hard it is to be me, standing next to Faith, and Buffy, and Cordelia? Nobody notices me. I’m the good girl that blends into the background. I’m the one everybody else uses for their excuse when they go off to have fun. Just once, I want to know what it’s like to be the bad girl, to be the one who walks into a room and all the guys want to dance with.” She stopped to play with a small ornament on his bookshelf. “Maybe I came because you’re not the only one with a fantasy here.”

All the air was sucked from his lungs. It certainly explained her costume. 

“So…this would be for yourself as much as for me?” Wesley asked carefully. It was reaching for straws, but bugger if she wasn’t standing there, holding it out with two hands, waiting for him to take it.

“Maybe.” Willow took a deep breath and blurted, “But I’m still a virgin. Does that make a difference?”

“Oh.” The implication of her words made his eyes widen. “ _Oh._ I hadn’t…I assumed…you and Oz…”

“Do you know how long it took to get him to even kiss me?” Frustration was starting to bleed into her voice, and she replaced the ornament with a bit more force than he thought she intended. “He wants everything to be perfect, which is sweet and all, but we live on a Hellmouth. We don’t get perfect.” Finally, she lifted her eyes to his. The strength he saw there made him harden even more, if that was possible. “We get now.”

There was really no debate left for him. With definitive steps forward, Wesley closed the gap between them, using a single finger under her chin to tilt her head back so that she was forced to look at him. “I shan’t hurt you, Willow,” he murmured. “But you’ve repeated ‘maybe’ more than once. I’ll only do this if you’re a willing participant. It’s not enjoyable for me if I think I’m forcing you.”

A ghost of a smile returned to brighten her features. “You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“I have. Once. It wasn’t as…satisfying as I would have wished.”

“Oh? Why?”

He chose his words carefully. “My partner didn’t trust me enough,” he said. “She didn’t allow herself to release her power to me sufficiently in order to achieve climax.”

She grinned. “That’s a whole lotta words for saying she didn’t come.”

He smiled with her, aware that the heat that suffusing his body was now threatening to spill over. “Yes, I believe you’re right.”

“So…” Her teeth caught her bottom lip. Wesley had to fight the urge to bend down and bite it for her. “…how do we do this?”

* * *

He half-expected her to be gone by the time he emerged from his bedroom. Though he’d finished dressing as hurriedly as he could, there was still the lingering suspicion that this was all a trick, that somehow Buffy had conned her best friend into sticking the knife into the Watcher she detested by pretending to seduce him. After all, it was inconceivable that such a tender young thing as Willow could ever be interested in a man like him.

Except she was still there when he stepped into the lounge. She even looked more relaxed, curled up in the corner of his couch with a book she’d nicked from the shelves.

She leapt to her feet when he entered, dropping the text like a child expecting retribution. Her gaze swept over him, but if she found anything interesting in his attire, it didn’t register in her face. That made sense. He wore suits like this every day when he went out in public.

“We shall need a safe word,” he said without preamble, then realized that, with her inexperience, she might not know to what he was referring. “Do you know what a safe word is?”

Willow nodded. “Something we pick to say in case we want to quit, or when we want it to end.” She flushed at his surprise of her knowledge. “I told you I did research.”

“Right. Of course. Then, when either of us says, ‘Llama,’ we shall stop, all right?” He was pleased when she nodded again in acquiescence. The anticipation of her responses once he was actually touching her was making his cock twitch. “Just follow my lead. I’m sure you’ll catch on quickly enough.”

She glanced around. “But…you don’t have anything to, you know, spank me with. Like a paddle, or a wooden brush or something.”

The thought that she’d given enough thought to this to consider toys brought goose bumps to the surface of his skin. “I prefer to use my hand,” Wesley replied. Slowly, he walked toward her, lifting a single finger to trace the delicate line of her clavicle. “What worth is there in this if I can’t feel what you feel?”

Her breath visibly hitched. “I see your point.”

Though the temptation to kiss her was thundering through him, Wesley forced himself to drop his hand and stand back, affecting his sternest bearing by lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders. “Do you honestly consider this appropriate attire, Miss Rosenberg?” he said, his voice cold as his gaze devoured her form.

His abrupt shift in manner jerked Willow from the slight haze she’d been in. “Huh?” she asked.

“I will repeat myself only this one time,” he warned. He circled around, standing behind her to survey the rear view, enjoying her fidgeting as she fought the urge to turn around and look at him. Stepping so that he was close enough for his erection to nudge against her ass, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Let’s try this again, shall we? And I expect the truth, Miss Rosenberg. Anything less will result in further punishment.”

He didn’t straighten, choosing to remain in such close proximity, his breath fanning evenly across her bare neck. The scent of her coconut shampoo was even stronger from this angle.

“I…I…like this outfit,” Willow said. Her voice was faint, but Wesley believed that she was starting to understand how the game worked. Her next statement confirmed that. “I wore it because I thought you liked it, too.”

He chuckled. When the low rumble elicited a shiver, he ghosted a hand up her arm, letting it come to rest lightly upon her shoulder. The quiver of the muscles beneath her skin reverberated into his palm.   
“While that’s an…interesting observation,” he murmured, “it doesn’t really answer my question, now does it? It does, however, satisfy my curiosity as to why you would dare come to me dressed in such a way.” The tips of his fingers began stroking the exposed skin along the neckline of her top. “You were deliberately trying to provoke me, Miss Rosenberg. Does it please you to think you’ve succeeded?”

There was a pause. He wished he could see her face to know what she was thinking, but there was no way he was going to abandon his position behind her.

Then she laughed.

“The thing is, _sir_ …” She stretched out the polite address at the same time she ground her ass back against him. “…I _know_ I’ve succeeded.”

He couldn’t stop the groan coming from his throat. Part of Wesley was tempted to say the safe word then and there, stop the charade of the fantasy and just take her there on the floor. He knew, though, that if the word was uttered, all chance at repletion would be lost. Beyond the world of the fantasy, there was no way Willow would be interested in what he had to offer.

Snapping straight, Wesley clamped his hand on her shoulder and took a step away, guiding her with no room for challenge to the straight-backed chair against the wall. “Sit,” he ordered.

She stumbled, flustered by his sudden attitude shift. It took a moment for her to get situated in the chair, but when she finally lifted wide eyes to stare up at him, the innocent Willow was back.

Wesley held his breath. He was convinced the fantasy was about to end.

“Are you…” She paused. Even standing where he was, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. “…angry, sir?”

He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. The game was still on.

Taking a step back, Wesley remained silent while he slowly removed his suit coat. His eyes bored into Willow, daring her to look away first, secretly proud of her when she did so only just before he reached his shirtsleeves.

“I will not tolerate such behavior, Miss Rosenberg.” Bending his arm, he made a show of removing his cufflinks and setting them to the side before starting the deliberate roll of his sleeve. “Remove your shoes.”

Though her mouth opened to question the curious instruction, Willow hesitated only a moment, staying within the scene as she leaned over to do as she’d been told.

“Now your tights.”

Her hands went to her hips and then stopped.

“Is there a problem?” Wesley asked.

“I have to stand in order to take them off.” Her breasts rose and fell from her quickening breath. “Sir.”

His eyes glittered as he began removing his tie. “You may do so.”

When she stood, it brought their fronts within inches of touching. Though she waited for him to move out of her way, Wesley remained completely still.

The sound of her breathing was all he could hear. It took every ounce of his control not to grab her.

Without taking her eyes from him, Willow lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to reach beneath and grab the waistband of her tights. She had just started to push them down, the black leather pooled at her wrists, when Wesley said, “Turn around.”

She froze for only a fraction a second before complying. As she started to bend over in order to step out of the hose, he flipped up the hem of the skirt in order to expose her bottom.

“It would appear that you’ve forgotten something,” Wesley said. Her skin was unblemished, the bare cheeks of her ass begging him to touch it. “What did you hope to accomplish by not wearing any underwear, Miss Rosenberg?”

Willow stayed in the half-bent position, twisting her neck in order to look back at him. A wicked smile played on her lips. “I didn’t realize you had a rule against no panties,” she teased.

His hand shot out without warning. The hard slap of skin against skin echoed throughout the lounge.

Willow jumped. When she started to straighten, Wesley’s left hand was there to stop her, firm against the middle of her back as he kept her in the subservient position.

“I did not tell you to stand up,” he said, his voice harsh. He waited until the muscles beneath his palm relaxed, grateful for the brief respite to try and divert his attention from his throbbing cock. “In case you were wondering,” he continued, “that was for failing to answer a direct question. Did you honestly believe you’d escape punishment?”

Her breath was shallow, and the skin on her left buttock glowed a faint pink from where he’d spanked it. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to get that punishment a little sooner, sir.”

This time, he did smile. “Wicked girl,” he murmured. “But then…we both knew that, didn’t we?”

It was a rhetorical question. That was something else they both knew.

Soothingly, Wesley stroked the slight color his hand had left on her ass while Willow finished taking off the tights. He was careful to avoid descending lower and letting his knuckles graze across her labia. The longer he drew this out, the better it would be for both of them.

“I don’t think one is nearly enough to countermand the severity of your disobedience,” Wesley commented. “We shall start with ten. Grab your ankles, Miss Rosenberg.”

Though she did so, there was obvious reluctance in the lassitude of her movements. “I thought…” she started, and then stopped, remembering she was speaking out of turn.

“You thought what?”

“I thought you’d bend me over your knee, sir.”

“And why would I do something like that?”

She faltered. “Because then you could control my reactions more,” she finally said. “And you’d be able to feel them, too. Wouldn’t that be better?”

His sharp intake of breath was audible. Though she’d left off the _sir_ with her last question, he decided her direct understanding of just what his need required was worth letting it go. “I believe this position will suffice for now,” he said. “If I deem it necessary to add to your sentence, then I shall reassess our arrangement.”

Her response was a breathy, “Yes, sir.”

Wesley placed himself at her side, better to allow his blows a full swing. Resting his left hand on the small of her back to keep her still, he said, “Count off, Miss Rosenberg.”

The first strike made her squeak in surprise, and the jump of her muscles beneath his firm touch made Wesley’s cock twitch. His hand was already starting to warm, matching that which heated her ass, and he had to keep swallowing convulsively in order to get rid of the blockage that threatened to stop his breathing.

“One.”

He’d lifted his hand for the second when she spoke, having momentarily forgotten his order for her to keep count. Wesley smiled. “Excellent,” he murmured in encouragement.

Subsequent strikes found fresh patches of skin to pink, each one almost a caress as his hands shared the heat from her reddening buttocks. They shared the sting as well, though he remained silent while Willow gave voice to the sensations through her breathy cries and tiny moans. There was no reason for him to speak; she revealed everything he was feeling for him. 

How each blow made him shiver. 

How he wanted the same kind of fire in his fingers wrapped around his cock. 

How just touching her, soft strokes in between to assuage the growing burn, made Wesley want to sink to his knees and kiss the pain away. 

And still, she maintained her count, pacing him when his excitement threatened to impede his progress. 

By the time he reached the last stroke, his breathing was labored, so ragged within his chest that his arms trembled. His hand came down on the nearest cheek, lower than the others previous, so that when he drew it away, his fingers grazed across the outer lips of her pussy.

Willow shuddered, visibly wracking as her hands released and then curled again around her ankles. A long breath made her shoulders sink, and Wesley heard a whispered, “Nine.”

He paused. “What was that?” he asked carefully.

Though her head must have been swimming from being bent over so long, Willow twisted her neck to look up at him. Her mouth was wet, her tongue tracing her lips so deliberately that he couldn’t help but fix on the sight, and her eyes were nearly black with desire. “Nine,” she repeated, a little bit louder.

Wesley took a step away. When Willow whimpered, he had to fight to keep his somber demeanor. “How disappointing,” he commented. It surprised him he could sound so collected. “I’d always thought you were an intelligent girl, in spite of your more…wicked proclivities. Yet…you can’t even count to ten properly.”

Indignation flared within her eyes, but when she started to straighten, Wesley was back at her side, forcing her to stay down. “I can!” Willow protested.

Letting his free hand glide over her heated ass, he slipped a finger between the firm cheeks. “But that was ten, Miss Rosenberg,” he said. He passed over the tight pucker, pleased when she gasped out loud, and continued downward to her pussy. “Surely you’re not suggesting that _I_ can’t count properly.”

“No! No, sir,” she stammered.

She jumped again when his finger separated her outer lips, gliding through the copious fluids it found there to trace along the sensitive flesh. His mouth watered at the thought of how excited she was. “Ah, perhaps this is the reason. I’ve underestimated you. You’ve actually enjoyed your punishment.”

“Why…why would you say that?”

He shifted to mold himself to her back, reaching down and tugging gently at her wrists. It forced her to release her ankles, and Willow had no choice but to straighten when Wesley did the same.

“Do you have any idea how wet you are?” he whispered in her ear. With her skirt still bunched around her waist, the only thing keeping his hard cock from gliding between the globes of her ass was the thin fabric of his trousers. Wesley splayed a hand across her lower abdomen, driving their hips more tightly together so that there was no mistaking his erection. “Touch yourself, Willow. I want you to see just how aroused you really are.”

He saw her fingers tremble as she did as she was told, disappearing between her thighs before re-emerging glistening with her juices. Grabbing her wrist, he lifted it before her face, turning it around so that the light made her skin shine.

“Such a wicked girl,” he breathed. He guided her hand closer. “Now taste.”

She stiffened within his arms, clearly not expecting that particular command. From his vantage, Wesley could see the muscles in her throat constrict and wondered if he’d taken the fantasy too far. 

But then she moved, tilted forward as much as his arm would allow. The tip of her tongue appeared between her teeth, past her lips, licking along the length of her index finger so slowly that Wesley thought he would come in his pants right there.

Then she spoke.

“Your turn, sir.”

He groaned but didn’t hesitate, drawing her hand to his mouth to suck greedily at her fingers. His lashes fluttered closed as he savored the pungent taste, slipping his tongue between in order to get the drops that were hiding in the soft crevice, imagining it was someplace warmer, someplace wetter, that he was exploring instead.

He groaned again. The reverberations made her fingers vibrate in his mouth.

“Sir?” 

The soft exhalation drove his eyes reluctantly open, his lids heavy with the want for more. Letting her fingers go was even harder, but Wesley did so, dropping both of their hands to their sides. “Yes?”

With just the slightest of moves, Willow leaned back against him. “You were right,” she said. “I did mess up the count on purpose.”

“Because you enjoyed what I was doing to you.”

The hand he’d just released reached back to him, loosely lacing their fingers together before she drew it slowly to the soft skin of her upper thighs. “Yes.”

His fingertips dug roughly into the tender flesh. It was the only way to root himself in the fantasy.

“I am not doing this for your satisfaction,” Wesley said harshly. “There is a lesson to be learned here, and I _will_ ensure you learn it.” He shoved her away, sucking down a deep breath to calm his racing nerves. “Remove the rest of your clothing, Miss Rosenberg.” At her wide-eyed surprise, he raised a warning finger. “If you insist on behaving like a slut, you force me to treat you as such.”

It took a moment for her to begin. Slim hands trailed to the hem of her top, and as she tugged it up and over her head, Willow kept her eyes on Wes, watching his reaction to her growing nudity. She didn’t wear a bra. Her breasts sprang free of the clingy fabric, cherry nipples hard and puckered from her desire, and as he waited, she trailed her hands down as if to begin with her skirt.

She didn’t.

They stopped at her breasts, cupping the soft flesh, her thumbs brushing across the pointed tips.

“Yes…” Wesley hissed. Their gazes remained locked, each sparking from their barely restrained desire. “Touching yourself was hardly a trial for you, was it, Willow. You dress this way, hoping to attract male attention, hoping _I_ will notice. I daresay you’re even desperate for it. You would do anything to be touched, I’d wager.”

His words deepened the flush in her cheeks. “You felt how wet I was, sir,” she said. “And I felt how hard you were. I don’t think I’m the only one who’d do anything to be touched.”

It was a bold statement, made bolder by the sudden shove of her skirt down her hips. Willow kicked the black leather free of her legs and stepped forward until she was right in front of him.

“Do you like how I look?”

The question disconcerted him. It lacked the guile of her previous words, was spoken with a rush that suggested uncertainty. In that moment, she seemed herself again, fresh and innocent and wide-eyed, begging for approval from anybody who would glance in her direction. In that moment, Wesley’s heart went out to the brilliant young woman who had come to his flat in hopes of having some need fulfilled, a need he recognized all too clearly.

In that moment, the fantasy became real.

“Yes,” he said softly. Lifting his hand, he ghosted his palm across the tip of her breast. “You are quite beautiful. You don’t need such costumes to try and be so.”

She didn’t answer. The small line appearing between her brows betrayed her confusion about this shift.

Wesley cleared his throat. “I believe I’ve approached disciplining your misbehavior in the wrong manner,” he said. “If you crave to be hurt, then perhaps the best punishment is to give you the opposite.”

“I…I…what do you mean, sir?”

“You shall see.” He gestured toward the couch. “Bend over, Miss Rosenberg. Brace yourself against the back of the sofa.”

Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Willow did as she was told, exposing her still-pinked bottom for his inspection. Wesley traced the butterfly bows of her shoulder blades before following the shallow path of her spine down to the small of her back. Her muscles tensed, preparing for another blow.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes, sir.”

“And yet…you were asking for more.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

Willow whimpered as his fingertips caressed the faint burns along her bottom. “I…don’t know, sir.”

“Yes, you do.” Pushing the coffee table out of his way, Wesley knelt behind her, intensifying the force of his strokes. This close, the heat suffused his face, and before he could stop himself, he was leaning forward, running his tongue along the reddest portion, tasting the fire of her skin for himself.

She gasped at the sudden contact, but when she tried to squirm away, his hands slid to the sides of her hips to hold her in place.

“You asked for more…” He left a wet trail of kisses along the lower curve of her ass. “…because you believed…” As he sucked gently at the worst of the contact, he realized Willow tasted faintly of strawberries. “…that any contact at all between us…” Ever lower, his tongue brushed across the edge of her coarse curls, making the muscles visibly quiver in her thighs. “…would be preferable to none.”

Willow cried out when he abandoned his attention and sat back on his heels to break all contact with her. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Her head whipped around, stray strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. “You stopped. Why did you stop?”

“And why should I give you what you want?” he shot back. “This is supposed to be punishment. How can I expect you to learn your lesson if I give you that which you seek?”

“I can learn it,” she pleaded. “I’ll do whatever it is you ask. Whatever you want. Just don’t stop. Please. _Please_.”

“Mere words, Miss Rosenberg. You’ve attempted to use them on me before. They will not work this time.”

“Then let me prove it to you.” She’d abandoned both the _sir_ and her position, twisting to fall to her knees in front of him so that Wesley was forced to gaze at her, eye-to-eye. Her face burned with the vehemence of her words, but how much of that was from the fantasy and how much of that was Willow, he was suddenly unsure.

“You said you thought I was smart,” she continued. “The way I see it, the lesson you want me to learn is to not think of myself. So let me show you how smart I really am.” Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Willow reached between them and ran her palm over the line of his erection, making Wesley jerk in surprise. “Let’s forget about touching me, about getting me excited. Let’s focus on pleasing you. You don’t have to touch me at all.” She squeezed, and he gasped. “Will that show you I’ve learned my lesson?”

“I believe…” His voice croaked, and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. “I believe that it just might,” he finally managed to say.

Delight lit up her face. He was shaking as she pulled him to his feet, but she held true to her word, standing far enough away so that no part of her body touched his. Her nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, only the bare tips occasionally brushing across his skin below. So eager for more, Wesley was struck by the notion that this had somehow changed into punishment for him.

“Nobody’s ever made me feel like you have today,” Willow was whispering. When his head tilted down sharply to look at her, all he saw was the top of her head as she knelt to begin with his belt. “You go through your life, and you think you’ve got it all together, that the world makes sense.” The pressure around his waist disappeared as she undid his trousers and let them fall around his ankles. “And all it takes is one little detail to change, and you realize that you didn’t know it at all.”

Her nails caught along his thighs as she pulled his boxers down as well. Wesley’s cock sprang free, slapping along her heated cheek, and he swallowed down his moan as she took it in her hand to rub it along her face.

“I know what you think of me,” she continued. Her breath fanned over his shaft, as soft and heated as her voice. “You think you know who I am. But you’d be wrong. You don’t know the half of it.”

Any attempts to answer her were thwarted by the swipe of her tongue across the head of his cock. All Wesley could do was curl his hand around the back of her neck, keep her from moving away and cheating him of the warm, wet sanctuary of her mouth.

“Do you like this?” she asked. Her lips trailed down his length. When she reached the base, she hesitated for only a moment before continuing downward, licking around his heavy sac to take the path up the opposite side. “Tell me what you like. I want you to enjoy this as much as you can.”

“I…I…” It was his turn to stammer, sensations overwhelming from her hand and her mouth and the tip of her hot tongue. He cleared his throat. “You’re doing just fine, Willow.”

“Fine?” The warmth of her nearness faded, and he looked down to see her gazing up at him. Slight hurt lingered in her eyes. “I don’t want this to be _fine_. I want this to be amazing. How do I make it amazing?” Fire suddenly blazed in the hazel depths. “You’re the teacher here, sir. How do you expect me to learn if you don’t play your part as well?”

Her unexpected rebellion spurred Wesley to tighten his grip around the back of her head. “You wish to know what I want?” he queried, his voice low and deadly. “All right. First, I want you to open that delicious little mouth of yours. Then, I want to feel you all around my cock while you suck me off. I know you want this, but what I’m most curious about is how badly, how far you’ll go to get what it is you desire. Do we understand each other?”

She smiled, in spite of the fact that he knew he must be hurting her slightly with how he was holding her head. “Perfectly, sir.”

Without breaking eye contact, Willow opened her mouth and circled the head of his cock, swirling her tongue around the cap before sweeping across the slit and tasting the pre-come that had accumulated there. He did nothing to push her further, but he didn’t let her go, either. He simply followed her lead as he watched her slowly descend down his hard shaft.

He doubted she’d had much experience at oral sex. In spite of her ongoing relationship with Oz, the fact that she was still a virgin spoke volumes about what she’d probably done with the young man. As Wesley devoured the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her scarlet lips, though, he discovered he didn’t care. What she lacked in technique, she made up for with enthusiasm.

His fingers threaded through her hair, holding himself steady while her continuous moans around his cock made his knees begin to tremble. When she slid a hand between his thighs in order to start fondling his balls, however, he knew he had to take more drastic measures.

“Willow,” he said, though even he could barely himself speak. She never stopped in her sucking, and it took reaching down with his other hand to grasp the other side of her head before she noticed he was trying to get her attention. “Sit back.”

Her eyes were luminous as she did so. “Did I…? Wasn’t it…any good?” 

The fear in her voice was palpable. “It was extraordinary,” Wesley assured. Already, he missed the feel of her. “I just wish to…change things slightly.”

She watched as he inched around, sitting on the edge of the couch while he removed first his shoes and then his trousers and underwear. He was about to take off his shirt as well when a thought struck him.

“Come here,” he said softly. Waiting until she was kneeling between his knees, he reached forward to run his thumb across her swollen mouth. “You are very beautiful, do you know that, Willow?”

She didn’t answer. She merely waited for him to continue.

His hand dropped to her shoulder. For the first time, he noticed the soft spray of freckles adorning her skin. “I think you’ve learned the first part of your lesson extremely well. If I hadn’t stopped you just then, you can be assured that it would have been impossible for me to do so again before I’d come.”

“But I thought…I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“And I still do. But it’s time to take the next step in learning what it is that pleases me.” For the first time, he allowed himself the luxury of touching her breast, feeling the weight of it before skimming his palm across the hard tip. When she squeaked in pleasure at the unexpected contact, he smiled. “Do you trust me?” Wesley asked.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her reply.

“Good. Take off my shirt.”

Her hands were shaking as she leaned forward, sliding them beneath the cool cotton to push it off his shoulders. Wesley took advantage of her nearness to lean in and lick the curve of her neck, running his tongue upward to her ear before capturing the lobe between his teeth. His bite made her gasp.

“You’ve been driving me mad,” he whispered into her ear. Her hands were fluttering where she struggled to get his shirt off the rest of the way; he could only assume that it was due, at least in small part, to his words. _Good._ “I can’t sleep without you bedeviling my dreams. I sit at my work, and all I can see before me is a red-haired witch, determined to divert my focus.”

“I…I didn’t…”

“Sssshhh…” He laid a single finger across her lips, meeting her confused eyes with his own clear ones. “We’re not here tonight for apologies or explanations. Tonight is about something else entirely.”

Before he could talk himself out of it, Wesley bent forward and brushed a feather kiss across her mouth.

When he pulled back, Willow was staring at him so wide-eyed that he knew she was no longer within the moment of the fantasy. “You kissed me,” she said. “Why…why would you _kiss_ me?”

“Because it pleases me to,” he replied. It was an answer not based within the fantasy, either.

Neither moved. Wesley could see her pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat.

She was the first to speak, but when she did, it was the last thing he expected to hear.

“Llama.”


	3. Chapter 3

Wesley had to blink twice before the import of that single word sank in. Bitter disappointment washed through him at her use of the safe word, followed by a flash of anger that he would be frustrated yet again. He shouldn’t have been surprised, though, he chastised himself. More than once, they’d danced along the edge of their little roleplay, continuing in vicarious disregard for consequences.

Until now.

He swallowed, trying to push down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Well,” he started, and was shocked at how ragged his voice was, “that was…I suppose I…”

He had no idea what to say that wouldn’t come off as completely pathetic.

When he tried to rise from his seat on the couch, however, Willow grabbed his arm. “Why did you kiss me?” she asked again.

A sinking feeling in his stomach accompanied the tensing of his muscles. Now that the game was over, he felt oddly exposed sitting here naked in front of her. “I believe I already answered that question,” he said. 

“But you said…” Her voice trailed off, every question and every answer going through her mind flitting across her face. Wesley had never known a woman to be so incapable of hiding what she truly felt.

Gently, he took her hand and removed it from his arm. “We should get dressed,” he said. “I’m sure any excuse you’ve made to be out tonight will be wearing thin by this time.”

She still wasn’t moving out of his way. “You want me to go?”

“You said the safe word. That means our session is over.”

“No, it means I didn’t want to have to pretend any more. It just felt…wrong.”

Her words hurt, but he steeled his jaw to prevent her from seeing just how much. “I’m sorry you didn’t get as much satisfaction from the fantasy,” he said. “I promise you, I shan’t mention it ever again.”

This time when he tried to rise, she shoved at his chest, knocking him off-balance so that he fell back into the couch. In a flash, she was up, on his lap, straddling his semi-hard cock. “I didn’t mean it that way.” Her nails dug into his biceps as she began to squirm against his returning erection. “I don’t want to stop. I just don’t want…not to be us any more.”

His brows shot up. This was a possibility he hadn’t even considered.

“And honestly…” She was still talking. Wesley got the distinct impression that he’d missed something in his sudden realization. “…I don’t think that’s what you want either.”

And then she was kissing him. Willow. Kissing _him_. Any last thought of arguing fled.

Their lips parted almost immediately, each hungry for the taste of the other. Tongues dipped in, explored every hot crevice, tangled and teased only to start all over again when one threatened to slide away. One arm scooped around her back, crushing her more tightly against his chest, and Willow answered by dragging her hard nipples across his heated skin. It took sliding his free hand down to her bottom and feeling the fire still radiating there from his earlier blows to drag Wesley free from their ravenous kisses.

“Lay down,” he instructed, letting her go.

Eagerly, Willow hopped from his lap, but when she started to sprawl on her back along the length of the couch, Wesley stopped her with a hand on her ankle.

“On your stomach.”

This time, her movements were more hesitant, eyes glued to his features as she rolled over. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Trust me.”

He couldn’t resist touching the pink splotches that remained from the spanking, rubbing the tender areas over and over until he saw the last of the tautness dissipate from her shoulders. Then he stretched out so that he hovered along her length, bracing himself on his fists as the tip of his cock skimmed along the crease of her ass.

“I didn’t imagine this,” he murmured. He nipped along her shoulder, then went back over it with his tongue, the salt in her skin making his mouth water for more. “How could I? I’m mocked---.”

“Don’t.” Twisting beneath him, Willow met his eyes with more than sympathy. “Remember what you said? That this isn’t about explanations?”

Wesley chuckled. “And who exactly is the student here?” She wiggled her bottom, and the slick slide of his cock along the heat made him groan. “Perhaps you _are_ a wicked girl,” he whispered.

He didn’t wait for her to respond. Sliding down her body, he licked and nibbled along her spine, not stopping even when he reached the soft swell of her ass. The heat beneath his tongue lessened his bites, but every time Willow moaned, he sucked at a new patch, swallowing down another fraction of the fire until it burned more brightly inside his flesh than he could have envisioned.

When his tongue probed the valley between her buttocks, he felt her stiffen beneath his touch. “It’s all right,” he soothed. He didn’t linger, but traced downward until he found the tight pucker he’d been seeking all along.

This time, she pressed her hips into the cushions of the couch, as if to try and escape him. 

He pulled back, bending to lick along the lower curve of a fleshy cheek, skimming across the top of her thighs to reach the other side of her body. “Don’t be nervous,” Wesley whispered. “I want this. Please. Let me do this, Willow.”

Her intake of breath made him pause. Her protests never came, though, and eventually, her ass unclenched, her hips relaxing as she resumed her original position.

Diving back along the crease, he found her tight opening again, circling it with his tongue more slowly this time. He slipped an arm beneath her stomach, curling around her body in order to lift her up onto her hands and knees, to open her up, make it easier to delve even deeper. This close, he could smell her arousal. He could almost taste it. And every time he dipped along the pucker, Willow spread her legs open just a little bit further, making the scents even stronger.

Wesley slid a hand between her thighs, stroking blindly along her mound in a matching rhythm to his mouth. Her muscles quivered, and when he finally pressed his tongue past her last defense, his fingers sought their own heat, parting her outer lips to glide slickly deep inside her pussy.

Willow cried out, her back bowing as she ground back against Wesley’s face and hands. For a moment, he thought he might have hurt her, but the slow keening that was coming from her throat convinced him otherwise, spurring him to redouble his efforts. He decided he adored that particular sound; he was going to do everything in his power to have it repeated.

Her inner muscles kept squeezing around his fingers, encouraging him to add a third to his gentle thrusts. When his fourth accidentally brushed across her clit, she bucked back, momentarily breaking the seal of his mouth.

“I would think you enjoyed that,” he chuckled.

When she twisted again to look at him, she was grinning. “You think?” 

“And this?” Deliberately, he pulled his fingers out and slid his hand beneath her so that his thumb was pressed more firmly to her clit. 

Willow gasped.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Though he bent his head, Wesley was prevented from reaching her ass again by her hand coming back and down to touch his cheek.

“Can I…ask you a question?” Her smile had faded by the time he looked up, her eyes dark. It prompted him to slide back up her body, abandoning the heat of her pussy, the dark depths of her ass, to stretch alongside her and pull her into his arms.

“I wanted to do that,” he assured. “Do you have any idea how arousing it is to see how wet it makes you?”

“I know. I…wanted to ask you about something else.” Taking a deep breath, she pushed him onto his back, rolling on top of him to straddle his hips so that his cock was coated in her juices. Her hair tumbled across her cheek as she braced herself against his chest. “Do you…want me?”

His cock twitched. He knew she could feel it by the slow smile that crept across her face.

“I want you,” Willow murmured, not waiting for his verbal answer. She slid down, matching torso to torso, ghosting her lips across his. Her breath was sweet and hot and made his cock twitch again. Of course, that could’ve been the heat from her pussy as well. Wesley wasn’t entirely sure he was coherent enough to even recite the Greek alphabet at that particular moment.

“You had me,” he replied. “And you made me stop.”

“Because I want more.” Her head turned just enough so that their cheeks touched and it was impossible to see her eyes as she spoke. “I want you to be my first.” She pressed her hips against his fractionally harder.

It was almost as startling as hearing her utter the safe word. Stiffening, Wesley grasped her waist and forced her to pull away so that he could meet her gaze. Though he wasn’t certain he knew what he would find there, it definitely wasn’t the desire that reflected in her eyes.

“You can’t be serious,” he said.

“Deadly.” Her lips quirked. “Which probably isn’t the smartest thing for me to say on a Hellmouth.”

“But…if you think that’s what you need in order to climax, it’s not. I was quite looking forward to doing that by…other means.”

“And that would be wonderful,” she said. “But…I want more.”

“Willow---.”

“Please, Wesley.” She sat up, resting all her weight on his hips, and as such, on his cock. “All those things I said before---in the middle of everything and at the end? I wasn’t just making that up. Honestly, I couldn’t. I’m a left brain gal all the way.”

“That doesn’t mean---.”

“It does!” Frustration sharpened her tone, and she slid back enough so that she straddled his thighs instead. Her fingers dipped between their bodies and circled the glistening head of his cock, over and over and over again until he was dizzy from the sensations. Wesley had to squeeze his eyes shut in order not to act out in haste.

“ _Please_ ,” she said again. Her voice was disembodied, floating somewhere above him, begging him just as assuredly as she had at the height of their little roleplay. And then it came again, softer. More controlled. “Please, _sir_.”

His reaction was unavoidable. Bolting upright, Wesley curled his arms around her waist, tugging her back to him, knocking her slightly off-balance as he devoured her mouth. Willow clung to his shoulders, her legs gripping his hips, and then they were rising, moving, floating through the flat, hands and lips and tongues and teeth ravaging the other’s until the edge of his bed had them toppling back onto the firm mattress. They separated then, but only for a moment, coming back together with a clash that had his head spinning, his skin searing.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to take it slow. This would be her first time, and he’d read enough to know that it could be considerably less pleasurable for the woman than it was for the male. The last thing he desired was to hurt Willow when she had already done so much for him.

So he concentrated elsewhere for the moment.

On her mouth, ripe and luscious and oh so eager to please.

On the tender spot at the base of her throat, where the heat seemed to pool, taunting him with reminders of how hot her ass had been from his spankings, how warm his palms had remained even afterward.

On the taut buds of her nipples, circling them with his tongue before drawing them hard into his mouth, his teeth biting at the sensitive tips so that her fingers clawed at the back of his head in order to keep him at her breast.

He parted her legs with his knee, trapping a single thigh between his, so that he had room to dip his hand down and resume the careful explorations he’d begun earlier on the couch. His fingers came away slick with her fluids, but before he inserted any inside her, Wesley brought his hand up to his mouth, meeting her eyes as he sucked away all traces of her arousal.

Willow was panting, every breath brushing her puckered nipples across his chest. “Is the point of all this to make me beg?” she asked breathlessly. “Because you have no idea how close I am to that.”

He captured her mouth in a hard kiss. “The point is to taste as much of you as I can,” he replied. “I’m not about to abandon that simply because you can writhe here in my bed so prettily.”

“That’s because you’re driving me crazy.”

He smiled. “Then I can only say that it’s about time I wasn’t the only one going mad.”

She slid her hands down his back, letting her nails drag along the way, before settling around the firm curve of his ass. “Can I beg anyway?” she breathed. “I’m so ready for this, I’m going to bust and then you’ll have little Willow bits all over the place.”

“Well, we mustn’t have that,” Wesley murmured. Reaching behind him, he fumbled with his nightstand drawer, looking for the box of unopened condoms he had inside.

“If you’re looking for what I think you’re looking for,” Willow said, “you don’t have to. I’ve been on the pill since I was fifteen.” At his raised eyebrows, she blushed. “Thanks to my mom and her longstanding feminism, I’m a woman in charge of my own body.” A wicked glint appeared in her eyes, and her fingers trailed along his chest. “Except, you know, when I let _you_ be in charge of my body.”

His chuckle was stifled by the quick fusion of their mouths, his mind lost again as he stretched out atop her slim form. The head of his cock brushed against her coarse curls for only the moment it took her to part her legs, and then it was gliding along the same wetness he’d already sampled.

He knew how far he could thrust before it would be painful to her; he’d felt the thin barrier when he explored her depths with his fingers. Moving so slowly that he wondered if time had stopped, Wesley entered her pussy, stopping when it was just the head of his cock inside her before pulling out again. A little at a time, each stroke in took him just a trifle deeper, allowing her time to get used to the penetration. He never stopped kissing her. Never stopped touching. If she was focused on pleasure elsewhere, he reasoned, she would be less likely to feel the discomfort when he finally broke through.

Too quickly, it reached the point where he knew he would have to press harder. For a moment, he hesitated, but when Willow dug her nails into his ass, biting down on his tongue to goad him into continuing his kiss, reason fled. Wesley thrust, a quick, sharp stroke that had his long cock sheathed completely inside her, and moaned from the tight muscles constricting around him.

Willow stiffened, whimpering against his mouth. When he lifted up to look at her, her eyes were squeezed shut, a look of intense concentration furrowing her brow.

“Are you all right?” he asked. Though he whispered, it sounded altogether too loud in the close quarters of his bedroom.

“Just…don’t move. Not yet.”

Her request was simple to follow. The sheer heat rolling off her, surrounding his cock, sticking her skin to his, had Wesley convinced he would come if he did move.

Willow’s hands disappeared from his bottom, coming back up his body so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. Her eyes remained closed, but she closed the distance between their mouths with unerring accuracy, kissing him with a slow hunger that he couldn’t deny mirroring. It stretched on, with neither of their bodies moving elsewhere, until the height of his urgency to come began to ebb. All he was left with was the desire to melt into her soft flesh.

“Now,” she breathed when they finally parted. His eyes searched hers, but any sign of her discomfort was gone. And then she smiled, and the fire reignited inside his belly.

Just as slowly as he had entered her the first time, Wesley began to withdraw, letting her adjust to the changes. There were no more whimpers, but her body remained tense, even when he began a gentle rhythm of in and out. His mouth grazed along her temple, tracing the sharp line of her jaw, savoring every scent and every taste he encountered along the way.

“You can go faster,” he heard her whisper.

Actually, Wesley didn’t think he could. Much more speed or force, and it would be over far too quickly. This was something he wished to make last as long as possible.

Still, he managed to speed up slightly, every stroke burying himself within her heat, tumbling into the force of it just a little bit more. He angled enough to hit her clit at full penetration, drawing out little breathy squeaks from Willow that encouraged him to continue, but when her hot hands started to prove too much on his sensitive skin, Wesley pushed himself up, reaching behind to grab her wrists and twist her arms up and over her head.

Her eyes followed the movement, and he wondered if holding her so was taking the control just a little too far.

Until she looked back into his face. And he saw the excitement glittering in her eyes.

His strokes grew rougher of their own volition, his balls slapping against the curve of her ass. Willow’s pulse echoed all around him, into his chest, against his palms, through his tongue as he bent to suck at her neck. She was as lost in the pleasure as he was, repeating a single affirmative over and over again beneath her breath.

Wesley knew she was climaxing when her pussy suddenly clamped around his cock, tiny undulations rippling up and down it as he continued to thrust in and out. She cried out, arching her head away, forcing him to abandon the succulent skin of her throat to focus on finishing himself.

It didn’t take long.

The heat and the sweat and the smell of her pussy and the power of the small body he had controlled beneath him drove him up to the edge, teetering with violent thrusts he could no longer control. But it was a single breathed word, whispered in his ear as he descended to attack her neck once again, that pushed him over, had him crashing and falling through wave after wave of rippling pleasure he’d thought would never be his.

“ _Sir_ …”

Wesley jerked, spasming as he shot once, twice, more times than his brain could process, deep inside Willow’s pussy. Letting go of her wrists, he was only half-aware of her arms coming back around him, even less so of her mouth kissing and licking at his sweat-slicked neck. All he could see were brilliant flashes of red. All he could hear was the thundering of his heart. All he could feel was the diminishing tremors wracking his lean form.

And then all he could sense was Willow.

Suddenly aware of how heavily he rested atop her, Wesley pulled up, away, out, wincing at the aftershocks shooting through his too-sensitive cock as he pulled free of her heat. Carefully, he rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his fist with reluctant difficulty, in order to look down at her sex-flushed body in awe.

None of his dreams had been like this. As vivid as they had been, none could even compare. What was worse, her rationalization that the fantasy would make the desire go away had been completely erroneous. If anything, he wanted her even more now.

He lifted his eyes to hers, minutely afraid of what he was going to find there.

Her lids were heavy, and her mouth curved into a sated smile. “That beats a battery-operated friend any day,” she teased.

In spite of his trepidation, Wesley smiled. He began tracing filigrees of nonsense upon the flat expanse of her tummy, desperate for something diversionary, something less intense than what they’d just experienced. He was rewarded with her light giggle.

“That tickles.”

His hand fell away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s a good kind of tickling.” She paused. She was silent long enough to draw his gaze back up to her face. “Unless you mean you’re sorry about…everything else,” she added hesitantly. “You’re not…are you?”

“No, of course not.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, but before he could go on, she was snuggling into his side, sighing contentedly.

“Good. ‘Cause my brain’s more than a little melty. All I want to think about right now is sleep.”

He laid back, making it easier for her nuzzle against him, stroking the delicate line of her spine. Sleep was sounding like an excellent option to him as well, but as his eyes drifted closed, Wesley couldn’t help but wonder just what the evening’s events were going to mean for the both of them in the long run. This wasn’t an ideal situation, and odds were very good that it would never be repeated. While the thought of that left him more than a little sad, the euphoria of what he’d been given eclipsed that.

He fell asleep before he could dwell on it further.

* * *

Monday morning found Wesley standing outside the library doors, shirt collar stiff under his chin, his translation tucked safely beneath his arm. He could do this. Trying to hide was childish and silly; the fact that it was also completely ineffective was no small measure to his appearance, either. Where he’d hoped to avoid his problem, his problem had shown up on his doorstep with an eager smile and little regard for his fear. It was time to accept the inevitable and return to his duty.

He was mildly disappointed when he found only Giles, but it made his feigned indignance at the young people’s intrusion much easier to maintain. They were able to slip into an uneasy routine, just as they had before Wesley’s unfortunate dreams, and argued over the translation’s intent for the better part of the morning. It was the tolling of the lunch bell that brought the end to Wesley’s newfound peace.

“And I’m telling you,” Buffy said as she pushed open the library doors, “there is no way it isn’t a conspiracy. I mean, did you see how insipid the spring colors are? Who’s supposed to look good in those?”

Wesley looked up at the sound of her voice, but he saw only Willow, nodding along in silent support. When Buffy noticed him at the research table, her comment was quick.

“Looks like little Sheba’s back.” Hopping up on the checkout counter, she grinned. “C’mon, you missed us, didn’t you? Admit it.”

It wasn’t a question that required an answer, but he smiled anyway, watching warily as Willow slipped into the chair opposite him. He hadn’t seen her since Saturday morning. They had slept the night through, and when they’d awakened, she’d slipped out before he could suggest breakfast. Something about her mother expecting her home early. Wesley had absolutely no idea how she regarded their evening together.

But at least his dreams had subsided. She had been correct about that, after all.

“You look rested,” she chirped, opening up one of her textbooks. “Get a lot of sleep while you were gone?”

He regarded her carefully, curious about her intent. “Yes,” he replied. “Thank you.”

A quick blush was followed by the sudden dip of her eyes, and the moment was over, gone before he could reach out and grasp it. Giles’ intrusion and Buffy’s presence made it impossible to press, but surprisingly, as Wesley sat and organized his notes from the Council’s newest training manual, he found the atmosphere more relaxing than he had in the past. Comfortable. He wondered why that was.

His silent questioning lasted throughout their lunch hour. Neither girl addressed him directly, but more than once, he caught Willow’s cautious glance. He even thought he felt her foot nudge his beneath the table at one point. But when the bell came, she packed up her books and rose to leave with Buffy and Giles without anything more than a quick smile.

They were at the door when Willow stopped and turned around. “It’s seven o’clock tomorrow night, right?” she asked, her eyes locked on his.

“What’s seven?” Buffy quizzed.

“Wesley’s going to start teaching me some of the more archaic ancient languages so that I can help more with the translations,” Willow explained. “Once I know the basics, I’m going to write a computer program that will make it all go faster so that nobody has to wait a week again to read the final result. It should make your job a heck of a lot easier.”

“So your big brain is going to get even bigger?” Buffy faked a put-upon sigh. “Good thing I’m strong or I’d start getting all self-conscious.”

Willow returned her gaze to Wesley. “So, seven, right? I’d hate to be late for my first lesson.”

He nodded, his stomach flipping inside him. “It’s actually your second, though,” he corrected. He was favored with her smile widening. “But yes, seven o’clock is more than adequate.”

She did a mock salute. “Yes, sir,” Willow said. She was the last to turn back to the door to leave, but as she did, Wesley could have sworn he saw her wink. Then again, it could have been a trick of his imagination.

His cock hardening against his thigh was not.

Neither was the genuine smile created from the sudden lightness of his heart.


End file.
